


Kathleen Hanna's Fringe

by CandyCryBaby69



Series: Kathleen Hanna's Fringe [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Alois does british banter culture, Alois loves making shitty puns at every possible occasion, Americans might find this a bit confusing, Anal Sex, Artist AU, Drinking, Drunk Sex, I pretty much turned ciel into pepe the frog for no reason, LMAO, M/M, Modern AU, Oral Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Singer AU, Songfic, Stripper AU, Terrible attempt at humour altogether lets be real, age gap, copious amounts of drinking, i don't treat the female characters like shit in this story so that's a thing that exists, ooc but mostly due to the copious amounts of fucking drinking, references to sexual abuse, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyCryBaby69/pseuds/CandyCryBaby69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alois Trancy, nineteen year old punk singer by evening, stripper by night and perpetual problem to his best friend. Claude Faustus, thirty five year old failed painted, shafted with the job of painting portraits of posh people's pets. They meet. Shit hits the fan, not because they met but it certainly doesn't help.<br/>(Somehow inspired by Death in Venice but I don't know how),</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I make everyone's default mildly incompetent or mildly exasperated but it's my thing. Also if you're wondering why everything is so shitty, it's because I'm Welsh so my experience of Britain is that I wouldn't notice if a nuclear bomb went off tbh.  
> Also booty shorts =hot pants... this fic wouldn't have that atmosphere of awful Britain without awful British Slang. Oh and the "fuck the South" is a reference to the social/economic divide between the people in Britain who live to the south of London but have far more money and resources than those in the north. Alois probably would have been a northerner so I made him one.

 Alois knew nothing about Bill's other than that it was a shitty pub with a stage which meant it was a concert venue. It was a concert, the owner explained on the sly, in a last-ditch attempt to get regular patrons in the pub who weren't OAPs who would probably be dead in two years time. However, a venue was a venue for _'Kathleen Hanna's Fringe'_ , especially with a band name that awful. The thing was that it was fitting that their band name was super awful because they were also super awful. They only did covers of other people's songs and, ironically, their lead singer and saving grace wasn't even into punk music.

 "Okay, so like, no offence, but do you really think a cover of 'I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor' is... fitting for a dingy shithole like here," Alois announced. This was the first time he had stepped into the bar. The triplets that made up the rest of the band had stayed as mum as usual on details, including when the concert was even happening. They'd driven up to his friend's house earlier that morning and practically dragged him into their car. Alois just found it lucky the club he usually worked at had flooded and he had a day off today.

 "It's the only song I can play though," Timber, the bassist, responded.

 "Well, that's your fault for not learning more songs."

 "It's past the point now anyway," Canterbury interjected. Alois huffed and picked up the cheap microphone from the karaoke machine he'd been forced to lug all the way. It was a total throwback to 2008. Alois had begged for his own karaoke machine back in the day after deciding that karaoke was the best way for him to become a better singer. He'd gotten it in the end but he only used it once before it was locked away in the attic forevermore.

"Well, we might as well start practicing anyway," Alois sighed.

* * *

  Claude set the paintbrush down and sighed as the painted poodle stared back at him. The painting was finished, he just had to let it dry and then put varnish on it. At least he was getting paid two thousand quid for this fat load of shit. The poodle on the couch seemed to understand that its modelling session had finally ended and flopped onto its side, face pressed into the plush pillows on the couch.

 "It's finished then?" The owner called.

 "Yes, I'll send it over when it's dry."

 "Okay..." she responded and then called her dog who refused to move an inch. She made her way over to the frizzy animal. After all the hours toiled away, try to make it stay still it was now that the animal had decided to fall asleep on Claude's couch. The blonde girl, Lizzy, made to pick the dog up but only succeeding in spooking it. The dog's panic caused Lizzie to stagger back and knock the easer over causing it crack and pierce through the canvas. The paint leaked onto the carpet, a big white stain that looked like jizz pooled in Claude's expensived new rug. 

 "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, but sorry meant nothing. Not now, not ever.

 "I swear I'll cover the cost for everything," the girl implored, an angel of her time. A kind soul, a good-

 "I'll come back tomorrow so we can redo the painting."

 Claude needed a drink.

* * *

 The pub was not particularly packed when the 'concert' should have began. Most of the people in the pub where too busy ordering lager and playing pool to really notice the band anyway. Alois sat at the bar, looking at the door in the hopes that someone even vaguely interested in the band might turn up.

 "Come on," Thomspon urged, "We might as well start."

 "I need a drink to loosen myself up first," Alois responded and order a shot of vodka. The bar patrons where all grumbles, grunts and gritted teeth. Votes for UKIP, Daily Mail subscriptions and prejudice seemed to course through the veins in their forehead. A shot turned to a bottle and drinking turned to getting dragged on stage by the triplets. By the time he'd been dragged onto the stage, everything was sunshine and rainbows and wearing shorts in winters seemed less risque and more a birthright.

 "Hello," Alois tapped the microphone and shrugged at the feeble noise before leaning over in order to turn it to full blast, "Oi!" The sound leapt from the speaker and metamorphisised into the elephant in the room. The people in the bar all turned to look at Alois.

 "Hi," he began, "We are 'Kathleen Hanna's Fringe' and I've definitely not been drinking." At least that got a few chuckles from the crowd.

* * *

 The band on stage was defintely one of the most bizarre things Claude had seen in a while. He wondered if the blond had cloned someone to make a band or if he forced them to all look alike so he could stand out more. Not that he needed to dull down others to do that. Claude took in the blonde's appearance. The first things he noticed were the legs and the lips. The long, lithe legs were covered by thin black thigh-highs kept up by a set of lacy suspenders poking out of a pair of an extremely short pair of hot pants. Then the lips, they were pink and plump and pressed against a microphone. If this place wasn't a gay bar, Claude was sure that the blond would have been torn to shreds by the crowd. Actually, scratch that, he was fairly certain the patrons were still faiy interested in tearing him apart 

 "Right so, um," The blond looked at the rest of the band blankly for a moment before turning back to the crowd, "Shit yeah, we're doing a cover of 'I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor' because we're all proper Northeners here," the blond's theatrics increased through out his annoucement and his last comment actually managed to elicit a cheer from the crowd.

 "Yeah, fuck the South!" The blond yelled again which gained him another cheer. He was grinning ear to ear as a result.

 He clapped his hand and a very rough approximation of the song began playing, it wasn't terrible, it was just very punk. It got a little better, the rhythm of the original beginning to shine through. The blond started to sing. He sang the verses sensually, almost moaning. His voice went very low on the "I don't really want you to" line and then became a scream on the pre-chorus. The chorus was passionate and energetic and as the song progressed the patrons started to get into it.

  _"There ain't no love, no Montagues or Capulets,"_ the singer groaned as he lowered himself to his knees and threw his head back, sinking down further and spreading his legs.   _That's a stripper move,_ Claude thought.  _"Just banging tunes and DJ sets and dirty dancefloors and dreams of naugh-"_

 A screech came from the amp connected to the guitar. It was fairly unbelievable, even the singer was laughing. The strings on the guitar had snapped.

 "Sorry," the guitarist mumbled.

 "This wouldn't have happened if you weren't so... highly strung," the blond quipped and then laughed at his own terrible pun. The blond pushed himself up so that he was sat on the backs of his legs "Call guiness, I think we might have set the record for shortest concert ever."

* * *

 

The crowd was so nice, so friendly. They hadn't even booed when Thompson's guitar broke. Instead, they'd bought Alois commiseratory drinks. He felt dizzy. Maybe he should text Ciel and ask him to pick him up. Honestly, though, he didn't want to go. His bandmates had left awhile ago and now Alois was chatting with a guy called Gavin who said he once restored a car for Noel Edmonds.

 "He even told me all the behind the scenes secrets to 'Deal or No Deal'," Gavin exclaimed over his pint.

 "I didn't even know there were behind the scenes secrets to 'Deal or No Deal'. Did he tell you if Mr. Blobby's a bellend in real life?" He slurred.

 "Are you taking the piss out of me?" Gavin grumbled. Alois laughed again.

 "It's just banter," Alois wheezed, "God Gavin, you're being such a banteater right now!"

 "My name isn't Gavin," Gavin huffed before getting up from his seat and leaving. Alois flew into hysterics which were only disrupted by his phone beeping. It was Ciel.

  _"Where are you?"_ there really was something creepy about someone who used perfect grammar in text messages.

  _"not owt drinkin lol"_ Alois texted back.

* * *

 

 Claude started to wonder why he was staying out so late to drink. He hadn't even drunk that much, his thoughts were pre-occupied. The blond singer was still there too. He had been parcelled around the bar to every so and so with a shitty anecdote that didn't seem entirely true. Now he was sat next to Claude looking like he was going to pass out.

 It was a surprise none of his many suitors had taken him home. Claude wondered if the people in this bar actually opearated on some form of moral code that didn't involve sleeping with drunk people, all though even he thought that sleeping with the blonde in his current state would be crossing a line. He just wasn't sure what line it was.

 So he ordered stronger alcohol.

* * *

  _"I can't tell you by text"_ the message glowed on Alois phone as he used the bar to keep himself steady. Alois didn't usually drink this much but he noticed the man sat next to him had decided to start binge drinking too. It may have been his tenth shot of whisky in the last thirty minutes. Though Alois didn't think much of his ability to count at that moment.

 "It looks like I've found my alcohol poisioning buddy," Alois chuckled, turning to face the man with black hair. Alois noted that he was a lot better looking than some of the other men he'd talked to. His face was symmetrical and he had no real flaws in his face. Although, Alois found that to be something of a flaw as beauty could never flourish without the risk of ugliness so in someways the man had a sort of bland genericness to his look. He could definitely be an accountant in an advert if he learned to soften his features a bit.

 "I suppose I wouldn't mind holding your hair back while you throw up, looks pretty soft," the man mumbled, making Alois blush.

 "I'm partial to holding your hand while we get our stomachs pumped," Alois purred.  _Ugh, who the fuck says "I'm partial" exceot for Ciel. I sound like a fucking weirdo!_

 "I've got something I can pump your stomach with."

 At this point Alois planted his face into the bar counter and burst into a laughing fit, almost completely unable to catch his breath between laughs he gasped and panted. He chanced a look at the black haired man who managed to maintain a farily plain expression but embarassment seemed to be the thread holding his features together.

 "I'm sorry," Alois huffed between giggles, "It's just that that was a terrible pick up line."

 The man with black hair frowned and Alois laughed again.

 "Tell you what," Alois began and then paused, "Whatsyourname-"

 "Claude," the black haired man interjected.

 "At what?" Alois responded and collapsed into a heap of giggles again the black haired man was not impressed at all. "I'm sorry, you can call me Alois, it's my stripper name."

 "Are you actually a stripper or is that another joke?"

 "I am a stripper but ironically Alois isn't my stripper name, even though it does sound more strippery than my stripper name. I should really swap them around," Alois paused for a moment, "Yeah, anyway, if you can carry me back to your house then you can pump me with whatever you want all night."

* * *

 

 They had finally reached Claude's front door.

 "Does it count if I put you down so I can unlock the door?" Claude asked the blond.

 "Are they in your... trouser pockets?" The blond purred as he slowly slid his hands into Claude's pockets, fingers brushing against Claude's dick. He was already half hard from having his hand against pressed against Alois's arse and arm circling his slim waist. He bit his lip as he felt the fingertips grazing his cock and saw baby blue eyes staring up at him through the frame of thick, dark eyelashes.

 "Got 'em!" He cheered and passed a pair of keys to Claude who quickly opened the door, locked the door, and put Alois down on his couch.

 He pulled the zipper down on his jeans and started to wrestle his cock free from the confines of his pants. He was fully hard now and the blond, instead of doing something, choose to stare at Claude's cock with wide eyes. 

 "Aren't you going to start getting undressed?" Claude grunted.

 "Slow your roll, we have all night," Alois responded propping himself up on his elbows but mostly remaining sprawled out on the couch. Claude wondered if his alluring pose was purposeful or coincidental. It seemed as though it was hard for Alois not to be sexy.

 "Could you just start getting undressed?" Claude huffed.

 "Do you have any lube?" Alois replied, "I don't know if your cock will fit in my arse."

 It had been, maybe, two years since Claude had fucked anyone. As a result Claude was aware that he didn't have any usable lube to hand.

 "No. I ran out yesterday and I forgot to pick more up."

"Do you have any aloe vera lying around?" Alois asked.

"No."

"Coconut oil?"

"Why would I have coconut oil lying around?"

"I don't exactly know you well enough to comment on what you've got lying around your house. What about flavourless yoghurt?"

 "Once again, who the hell has unflavoured yoghurt in their house?"

 "You might if you were a health junkie," Alois offered. "Eggs?"

 "I'm not putting eggs on my penis."

 "Olive oil?"

 "I only have vegetable oil."

 Alois sighed and pushed himself up onto his knees, "I guess I'll have to suck you off."

 Without a further word, the blond knelt forward and started to suck on the head of Claude's cock. Claude could feel his impending orgasm as the blond began to move further down his length. He knew he should warn him but he supposed the blonde wouldn't mind.

 "Ah fuck," he grabbed the boy's head and held it in place as he ejaculated. The cum slithered past the blond's perfect pink lips as he looked up at Claude with a raised eyebrow, his soft cheeks still as rosy as ever.

"What the hell?" The blond demanded.

 ""Sorry, this doesn't usually happen," Claude lied.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 Alois continued to stare at the man while licking the cum off his lips.

 "You missed a bit," Claude mumbled pointing to Alois' cheek. Alois swallowed the jizz in his mouth and swabbed off the forgotten drop with his finger and licked it.

 "Thanks," Alois responded and then he unzipped his shorts and began to slide them down to his knees, revealing his lacy underwear and garter belt. Then he laid back on the couch sucking his fingers.

 "What are you doing?" Claude asked. Alois stuck a dry finger up in the air and then slowly removed his glistening fingers from his mouth.

 "It's not fair if you get to have all the fun, is it?" Alois murmured as he shimmied out of his panties and brushed a finger against his entrance leaving Claude momentarily mesmerized. Alois slowly inserted his fingers and stretched out his hole, his head tipping back as he intitally groaned in pain but then in pleasure. Claude watched the display in rapt fascination, he licked his palm and pumped his half hard cock in order to get it wet. His saliva mixed with his pre-come and made him slick and ready to enter the young blond.

 "Ready?" He breathed raggedly.

 "As I'll ever be,"" Alois responded, momentarily pausing in order to completely remove his shorts and underwear. The panties landed somewhere out of sight as Alois had flung them off. Claude lined up his cock and began pushing it into Alois. Alois, in turn, wrapped his legs around Claude's waist. Claude moved in and out of the blond slowly, barely touching his prostate. Alois rolled his eyes before sitting up a bit.

 Alois put his arms around Claude's neck and started fucking himself on Claude's cock, the tip finally hitting his g-spot. He shrieked and panted as his cheeks reddened. His own dick recieving necessary friction from Claude's stomach. Alois felt something wet and warm fill him. Alois slowed his thrusts and unravelled his arm from Claude's neck.

 "Dude! It's barely been two minutes!" Alois huffed as he began to reach for his own cock but Claude took hold of it and started to jerk him off instead. Alois moaned and fell back on the cushioned sofa. Alois's eyes slipped shut as his head tilted back, his soft lips parted and let out soft mewls while Claude loomed over him watching his face.

 Claude ran his thumb over the tip of Alois' penis and listened to the blond shriek and groan. A slither of precome gathered at the tip of Alois's member and Claude went back to pumping him, just more roughly now. Alois toes curled and his fingers gripped the couch.

 "Oh fuck yes," he murmured. Claude started to fondle Alois's balls in his free hand as he noticed, in a moment of clarity, that the blond was mostly hairfree in his pubic region except for a light patch waxed into the shape of a heart.

 "Cute," he muttered, the words drowned out by the blond's wanton gasps. Claude felt himself getting hard again but decided it was just best that he store all of these images of Alois into the wankbank, instead.

 "I think I'm close," Alois whined. Claude took his own member in hand, unable to resist, and began to rub their erections together. For the first time that night they ejaculated together; Alois cried out for God and Claude just grunted lowly, his seed spilling onto Alois' thigh. Alois's came on Claude's shirt. Claude supposed it was better than Alois having to leave the house covered in jizz, not to mention he wasn't super keen on the shirt he was wearing. 

After Claude finished tucking his cock back into his trousers, he looked back at the blond who had drifted off to sleep. He sighed and retrieved a sketchbook and some charcoals, deciding to sketch the young man in front of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT UPDATE ON THE LAMB, FAM. I JUST GOT BACK FROM FEMINIST PUNK BAND THING. IT WAS LIT

 Upon waking up in a completely alien room, there was only one thing Alois took note of. It was not the ceiling or the boring wallpaper. It was not the couch he was lying on, his brain-splitting headache, the dried cum on his thigh or the pain in his arse. It was a woman's voice. That made Alois shoot up like a rocket and scan the area for an exit. The door lead into a hallway, that was plain to see and so exitting through there was a no go. So how about the window?

 It seemed to Alois that he was on the ground floor of the house so this was beginner level sneaking out of a stranger's house, really. He should be able to do it... should is the word to focus on here. Alois usually didn't get this drunk and Alois usually used proper lube and Alois usually got fucked by men who didn't have big penises. There was bound to be a big result of all these shifting states of weirdness, Alois knew that much. So, as he slid a leg over the window pane, his foot hit ground. Then he slid out another leg and ducked under the window. And then he fell, with a great crash.

 "I was stepping on a plant pot," Alois mumbled as his ankle throbbed in pain. Grabbing the gate, Alois pushed himself up and attempted to put the foot attached to his throbbing ankle on the ground. That didn't go so well. Luckily, Alois had always been pretty good at gynmastics so he managed to hop until he reached a moderately busy greasy spoon. The waitress wiping down the table raised her eyebrow to the roof when Alois walked, well hopped, in.

 "Party too hard, love?" she asked with a grin.

 "Don't you know it? You couldn't do me a favour and lend me a phone?" Alois asked, deepening his voice slightly. The waitress grinned and pulled a phone out her pocket.

 "Might as well be a good samaritan," she responded. Alois smiled and then punched in Ciel's number. He'd once considered getting a tattoo of it but losing his phone so much had lead to him remembering it off by heart.

* * *

 When Ciel did arrive, it only took him twenty minutes, Alois was eating a full-English breakfast and spitting some bitter tea. Alois had asked the waitress that had lent him his phone to leave the fried egg off but there it was. The yolk wobbled and he recalled a quote Ciel had told him about Alfred Hitchcock. Apparently, Hitchcock found eggs revolting, Alois had to say the guy had the right idea there.

 Ciel saw Alois but then recoiled at the horror of the grimey cafe. It gross Alois out just as much but it reminded Alois of a more innocent age, perhaps a better time. Once Ciel had managed to get out of his near faint at the sight of the place (scuffed floors, stained seat cushions, non-descript nastiness on rubber table covers) he made a beeline for Alois.

 "Come on," Ciel said, grabbing his arm.

 "Wait!" Alois exclaimed and then swallowed the bacon in his mouth, "You need to pay for my food."

 Ciel rolled his eyes.

* * *

  _"Riding through the city on my bike all day 'cuz the filth took away my license,"_  Alois hummed as he sat in the passengers seat of Ciel's car. His swollen ankle had been placed in Ciel's lap. Ciel had never liked Lily Allen, or at least not her early stuff.

  _"Sun is in the sky, oh why, oh why, would I wanna be anywhere else?"_ Alois sung passionately as his accapella rendition of LDN had reached the chorus, his shoulders swaying to the beat he could conjur in his head. Ciel had never liked Lily Allen until he had heard Alois sing it.

 "Not to interupt, but do you mind telling me what the hell happened?"

 "Well," Alois began, "The triplets took me to a pub to do a concert and I was nervous 'cuz the patrons looked a right lot so I started downing Vodka left, right and centre. Then, I trot on stage get to the bridge of 'I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor' when Thompson breaks his fucking guitar strings. So this right lot turn out to be a real good time but they just cannot handle my bants. I get chatted up by this complete tool, drunk as I am. I say he can fuck me if he carries me to his house, he does... both. So, I wake up, hear a woman's voice. _Oh fuck, this fella's got a missus,_ I think so I dived out the window but what do you know they got a bloody plant pot so I trip and hurt my ankle and then I hopped my way to the nearest public place... And that's what you missed on the life of Alois Trancy."

 "You need to stop doing this sort of stuff. Also, can you please start talking in a language I can understand? You spent more of your life away from the slums."

 Alois punched Ciel in the arm and then slunk back against the window.

 "I'm driving!" Ciel exclaimed.

 "Banteater."

* * *

 "Congratulations, you managed to sprain your fucking ankle," Sebastian announced.

 "Do I get an award?" Alois responded.

 "You need to go to a hospital," Ciel responded.

 "How about I don't do that?" Alois snapped and then flopped his head back on Ciel's weird corduroy couch. Ciel sat next to him and gave him an imploring look.

 "I know you don't like hospitals but you need a real doctor to make sure it's okay."

 "I resent that," Sebastian murmured.

 "You're only in med-school."

 Alois groaned as he stared at Ciel's perfectly plastered cieling. From what Alois could recall of his morning, the plaster on that cieling had been sloppy and bumpy. The circles completely varied. They had been like that in the flat he'd lived in when he was a child. Big sloppy circles with hard bits that stuck off the wall. He'd jump on his parents bed to try and pick them off but he had been too small to reach. His brother was even worse off. Alois hoisted him on his shoulders but they ended up falling and breaking two arms between them.

 "Earth to Alois?" Ciel called waving his hand over Alois' face.

 "What's up, homeslice?" Alois responded.

 "Are you okay with staying here while your leg heals?" Ciel asked. Instead of replying, Alois bolted up and wrapped his arms around his friend, settling his head on Ciel's shoulder.

 "Thank you so much!" Alois squealed. From his posistion he couldn't see Ciel blush but he could hear him cough out a "you're welcome".

 


End file.
